


sanctuary

by Reclusive_Unicorn



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 10:54:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3934129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reclusive_Unicorn/pseuds/Reclusive_Unicorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s rare for Matt to be proactive about what he wants.</p><p>(Or alternatively as I've called it in my Google Docs 'Sad Power Bottom Matt Murdock'.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	sanctuary

**Author's Note:**

> This is all because of someone's post on tumblr talking about power bottom Matt. This is the cleaned up version of the one I posted on my tumblr. 
> 
> Also I'm incapable of writing anything happy. I'm sorry.

Foggy usually doesn’t wait up late for Matt. They run a law firm with new clients by the day. Because  _someone_  needed to be a reasonable adult and make sure they woke up on time to do their job.

But it wasn’t just any other night. Matt had been strung out the whole day. He spent the time fiddling with the seams of his clothes. Rolled his cane in his hands without thought and picked his cuticles bloody. He had even snapped at Karen, and to their surprise she gave back as good as she got in return. Thanks to Foggy's intervention they exchanged apologies without further incident.  The look of shame on Matt’s face afterward lasted the whole morning. It became down right miserable when a short time later Karen declared she was taking a half day because it was the weekend. The office door slammed behind her with an air of finality.

When Foggy had confronted him, because dude, what the  _hell?_ Matt had just shook his head. “I’m sorry, Fog, it’s just–” Matt let out a tired exhale and turned away from him.

“Does it have to do with Daredevil stuff?” Foggy whispered.

Matt raised an eyebrow, “Foggy, we’re the only two people on the floor at this hour.” Foggy just shrugged without caring to verbalize it, “And yes. It does. It’s better if you don’t know until after I've taken care of everything tonight.” Matt’s jaw took on a stubborn tightness that meant he wanted to drop the subject. So Foggy had been gracious enough to do just that. They walked home with their hands laced together and ate pasta for dinner before Matt kissed him and parkoured out into the night to fight crime.

It makes Foggy’s head spin sometimes with how much of a tv drama his life’s become. He checks his phone, 4:38 AM, and no messages from Matt. No doubt he was under the assumption that Foggy was asleep. Matt hated to bother him unless it was an emergency, a word that had become a conflict of interpretation between them. Getting near gutted and holding your organs in so not to plop onto the floor was an emergency. At least by Foggy's standards, for Matt it was just another Wednesday night in Hell’s Kitchen.

The second entrance creeks open and Foggy whips around to see Matt stomp inside. It’s hard to tell if he's injured in the Daredevil suit but Matt’s not limping or slow moving, Foggy considers that a plus.

“You’re awake.” Matt's tone is neutral as he snaps off his helmet to comb a hand through sweat-mussed hair. Foggy’s apprehension crashes into him like a tidal wave that Matt’s not sure he’s equipped to swim through it right now.

“I didn’t want to wait ‘til morning to find out how things went,” Foggy replies. To find out if you’re still alive, he keeps to himself. He shoves his hands into the pockets of his sweat pants and bounces on the balls of his feet. “So…how’d it go?”

Matt releases a mirthless laugh, “Well, it sure  _went_.”

Foggy decides its best not to push for any details except for the ones that matter. He goes up to Matt and wraps his arms around his neck and presses their foreheads together. “But you still got ‘em, right? Matt?”

“Yeah, I got ‘em” If Matt focuses just so he can still feel flesh giving way under his knuckles, the taste of blood in the air. He presses the rest of himself against Foggy and it’s just this side of not enough.  “Foggy. I want—Need—”

Foggy cuts him off, seals their mouths together in a kiss that Matt soon takes charge of. It’s full of teeth and desperation, as if Matt wanted to claw his way inside and never leave. They’re breathless when Foggy’s knees hit the edge of the mattress. They break apart to give each other enough space to peel off the Daredevil suit. Foggy’s eyes roam over every inch of Matt for signs of injury and because it’s _Matt_. There’s nothing save pale skin, rife with old scars. He lets out the sigh of relief that had built up in his chest.

“I’m alright,” Matt says, trails kisses across Foggy’s collar bones. Pushes him back onto the bed and crawls up to settle on top of his hips. Foggy pretends not to notice the way Matt’s hands shake as they unclothe him in return. Finally skin to skin, Matt drapes himself across Foggy, thrusts against his soft stomach. He presses his face against Foggy’s neck and inhales the growing scent of Foggy's arousal until it coats the back of his throat.

It’s rare for Matt to be proactive about what he wants. If it had something to do with his stoic Catholicism or if he’s just shy about it, Foggy's not sure. It makes it impossible for him to deny Matt anything when he's like this, though he’s far from complaining about it. Matt rakes his blunt nails down Foggy’s body to wrap a hand around his cock. Licks and nips his way up Foggy’s neck until he finds the space behind Foggy's ear and sucks angry red marks into it.

Foggy moans and bucks up into Matt’s hand, frustrated at the lack of pressure. He accuses Matt of being the biggest tease ever in the history of the whole  _world_ until Matt silences him with more biting kisses. It's a good distraction for him to grab the lube hiding under their rumpled bed sheets. Matt uncaps it one handed so not to let up the feather-light pace he has going with Foggy. With a liberal amount now coating his hand he tosses the bottle away to crawl back down Foggy’s body. Foggy whines even more until Matt's hand switches out with their mouth. 

“Matty, Matty, Mattyyy,” Has become Foggy’s mantra. He can only watch Matt suck him down while he finger fucks himself into oblivion. Every little noise of pleasure Matt makes going straight through his cock. Foggy grips the bed sheets to stop himself from taking hold of Matt's head.  Matt takes him in as deep as he can and sucks until Foggy can’t think straight.

Matt slides two of his fingers inside himself and revels in the burn. When Foggy does this, he always waits until the last possible moment. Until Matt’s a drooling mess on his fingers and can’t think of anything else but the fullness inside of him. Matt twists and scissors his own and at this angle it’s difficult for him to hit his prostate. He takes his free hand to squeeze the base of his cock and too soon he adds another finger inside. 

The weight and taste of Foggy’s dick on Matt’s tongue might be intoxicating but it’s not the main event Matt has planned for this evening. Matt gives the head of Foggy’s cock one last suck before he sits back up. Not wasting any more time, Matt pulls his fingers out of himself and moves back up on the bed. Without warning he sinks all the way down Foggy’s length.

Foggy shouts out Matt’s name as he’s engulfed in that tight heat hands shooting up to grasp at Matt’s hips of their own volition. Matt doesn’t give either of them time to adjust. He fucks himself on Foggy’s cock in earnest and Foggy does his best to match the brutal pace that’s being set, squeezing Matt’s ass in encouragement.

Foggy can't keep his hands in one place. He pulls Matt’s hair until he’s growling, twists at Matt’s nipples to make that growl turn into moans and soft keening. He traces over the scars littering Matt’s body with reverence, all the way down to thumb the head of Matt’s leaking cock.

“ _Ah!_ Don’t,” Matt pushes his hands away, “Not yet.” Sweat glistens and rolls down Matt’s chest with the forced effort not to come yet when he could have twice over already, if he’d wanted. Foggy watches Matt’s face twist into a mesh of bliss and agony. He wants to tell Matt that he’s beautiful, perfect even. Matt shakes his head before he can vocalize anything and kisses him again.

“C’mon Foggy, fuck, _fucking give it to me,_ ” Matt pants with hot breath in Foggy’s ear. When Matt starts to clench around Foggy’s cock Foggy tightens his grip on Matt’s hips and gives him what he wants. He re-positions his feet on the bed and finds the angle that drives Matt wild. Doesn’t let up even when Matt’s screaming for release.

“Foggy! Fuck yes,” Matt throws his head back with a pained sound, mouth gone slack as come paints his chest and hits the underside of his chin. He’s the picture perfect definition of well fucked. This combined with the curses and never getting permission to touch Matt’s cock sends Foggy over the edge. Matt rides him through it until he collapses on him, writhing and gasping through his own aftershocks still. Foggy waits for Matt to settle before he rolls him over and tries to pull out.

Matt wraps his legs around Foggy and squeezes him still, “No.”

“No?” Foggy is proud of the way his voice doesn’t squeak in surprise.

Matt nods, “No.”

Foggy kisses him on the nose, “Okay.”

Matt traces his fingertips across the sweaty skin of Foggy’s chest to check for scratches and bruising.  Each touch a silent apology for every mark left behind. Foggy’s isn't having any of that nonsense. He pulls Matt close and they exchange lazy kisses until Matt’s breathing evens out into sleep. Whatever is still coiled up inside Matt will be brought up when he’s good and ready and not a minute sooner.  And Foggy will be there to listen. Until then they let the dawn of Saturday wash over them in warm content.

**Author's Note:**

> Cry with me about these avocados [here](http://mattmurdockscane.tumblr.com/).


End file.
